


we have lingered in the chambers of the sea

by strangeglu



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Sleeping Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28599381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangeglu/pseuds/strangeglu
Summary: “Hello, Will.”The words tripped thickly off Hannibal’s tongue, lips dragging over the syllables as they escaped him. They landed over Will like another blanket, warming him to his bones.Will wakes up, after the fall.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 127





	we have lingered in the chambers of the sea

He was on a cloud, and it was rocking. 

His ears were filled with cotton, and he was wrapped tightly in the softest linen. The rocking was carrying him away, and he didn’t care where. He moved his body a little, in sync with the back and forth of his little cloud. He rubbed his face against the cloud. It gave way under his press, and his head was buried in fluffy softness. A deep content rose through his body, singing through his bones, until it turned up the corners of his lips in a soft smile.

…ow.

Smiling hurt, and he didn’t know why. He felt a small pull in the side of his cheek, tugging like a hook caught in the mouth of a fish. He frowned. Struggling against his linen bonds, he raised a leaden limb to press along the skin of his jaw and up to the padded gauze that adhered securely to his face.

He remembered suddenly, but without shock, the knife plunging through skin and meat and muscle. Tearing and rending before being pulled free. 

This should hurt more…

…was his only thought, before he dismissed it from his mind. He was done with wishing for pain. Remembering further still, he lowered his arm to his opposite shoulder, finding again the fibrous wadding of bandages spiderwebbing across the joint, and the arm it suspended. Breathing in deeply, the sterile smell of clean gauze filled his nose, comforting in a way. It made him think of band-aids on scraped knees, and gentle kisses that make hurt melt away. 

He rolled both shoulders back, testing them, noting again the lack of pain in his shoulder. The gentle rocking continued to lull him, helping him cling to his comfortable stupor. He rubbed his wool-filled head back into the pillow, feeling his softly curled hair spread out around his head in a halo.

Rocking onto his uninjured left side, he let his body stretch out, feeling pulled like taffy. Every dip and curve of his body seemed to melt into the mattress, until he was pressed so flush against it that it seemed made just for him. Settling his head, he let out a sigh, savouring the moment for another second before letting his eyelids flutter open. 

A suited leg was the first thing he saw, swaying ever so slightly to and fro. He followed it with his eyes, the tailored cream pant leg ending in a foot encased in cashmere sock and leather loafer. 

Will Graham knew exactly who sat by his bed.

Will’s eyes traced back along the graceful line of the leg, past where it hung crossed over its partner, and up. Raising his eyebrows at the tucked grey sweater at the waistline, the sleeves rucked up to the elbow, revealing delicately haired forearms. The strong hands holding up the book with a foreign title, and above it, the eyes, that flicked quickly back to the page. 

Hannibal Lecter gave no indication that he realised Will Graham was awake, beyond a seemingly involuntary twitch of one eyebrow, imperceptible to the average person. Will Graham was not an average person. 

Will hummed, deliberately, and sighed again, louder this time, giving Hannibal permission to notice he had awoken. Hannibal, to his credit, seemed genuinely surprised to see him awake. The corner of Will’s lip twitched. 

Hannibal carefully closed his book, placing it on a nearby table, before turning back to the bed, and settling in his chair, his eyes falling on Will’s face.

“Hello, Will.”

The words tripped thickly off Hannibal’s tongue, lips dragging over the syllables as they escaped him. They landed over Will like another blanket, warming him to his bones. 

In lieu of answer, Will simply hummed again, longer this time, trusting Hannibal to construct some meaning from it. Will studied Hannibal’s face, the angular features seeming softer in the dim light. He breathed in a gentle gasp through his nose, as he took in the openness, the uncertainty; things he hadn’t seen there before, had never expected to see. 

“Where are we?”

Will’s voice was cracked and strained, it grated over the words, so they came out half-broken, like static. 

Hannibal’s mouth was a thin unreadable line.

“On a boat, somewhere in the Atlantic,” he offered, his body shifting minutely as he resettled his bones, one arm clutching the other at the elbow, dangling toe pointing and unpointing, waiting for Will’s reaction.

“Okay,” Will croaked, tasting salt at the back of his throat. “The ground is moving.”

Hannibal’s brows knitted a fraction.

“We are on a boat.”

The look of concern, or consternation, on Hannibal’s face elicited a weak smile from Will. Noticing, Hannibal returned it, before carefully schooling his features back to the strangely transparent mask. 

“My face doesn’t hurt…or not like it should,” Will queried, fingers curling gently, just barely brushing the wadded gauze. 

“A painkiller. Mild sedative…” Hesitation, another rarity from Hannibal, “I thought it best that you sleep, after…”

Will remembered their embrace on the clifftop, victorious, bathed in blood and adrenaline, beautiful. 

He remembered their dive, air rushing past their tumbling bodies, clutching each other, the crushing vice grip of the freezing waters below, squeezing him almost as tightly as the arms that held him above the waves.

Will’s eyes flicked down to those arms. The fabric of the sweater that surrounded them looked impossibly soft. Will imagined it smelled like fabric softener. He wanted to bury his face in it. His eyes alighted on an area of the sweater, towards the waistband, which looked more padded than the rest. Hiding something from Will’s view.   
His fingers curled protectively against his wadded cheek. 

“Your side. You were shot,” Will gritted out, his eyes going back to Hannibal’s face, eyebrows raised in question.

“I was.” Hannibal mirrored Will’s own hand, pulling up the hem of the sweater slightly, revealing his own pad of clean, white gauze, and laying his hand over it.   
Will twisted his face, wounded by the sight of it.

“I have taken care of the wound. It was clean, no organ damage. It merely required stitches. Not to worry, Will,” the sound of Will’s name seemed unbearably gentle. 

Will turned his face up in quiet outrage.

“You need to lie down…you should be lying down,” Will shook his head softly, brows furrowed, as he looked down and began to shuffle backwards, away from Hannibal, carving out new territory for himself and leaving his hollowed out space bare. 

He looked back at Hannibal’s face, his good arm still stretched across the bed, a bridge connecting him to warmed sheets.

“You need to lie down,” he said again, a sterner tone than before, his voice growing stronger with conviction. 

Hannibal met Will’s eyes. For a few seconds neither moved, each peering into the other, one man’s gaze seeming to shout into the other’s void, listening for an echo.   
Slowly, betraying the stiffness in his joints, the pain of his wound. Hannibal unwound himself from the chair. Remaining slightly hunched, avoiding looking at Will in the bed, Hannibal removed his shoes, reached over to the table where he’d laid his book, and retrieved a bottle of pills, from which he took two and swallowed them. His back to Will, he sat down lightly on the edge of the bed. 

Will withdrew his arm as Hannibal, painfully slowly, arranged himself on his back, in the divot Will had left, his arm held protectively around his side. He shuffled a little, as though to settle himself, and closed his eyes, breathing evening out. 

Something close to a giggle escaped Will’s mouth, at the picture of the man beside him, still fully dressed in sweater, socks and pants, which at closer range revealed themselves to be soft linen, not the suit he had imagined upon waking. Lying stiffly on his back, Will’s brain supplied the absurd suggestion that Hannibal looked like a corpse, laid out for viewing before burial. Will shuddered, shook his head minutely to dispel the image from his mind, watching the chest of the older man rise and fall, a token of his vitality.

Some time passed, Will still watching the breaths enter and leave Hannibal’s body, eyes glued, scared that if he blinked or looked away for just a second, it would stop. 

The arm that had been extended still lay supine on the bed, a half way point between the bodies of the two men. It was easy to reach out, to feel the soft, thin wool of the sweater, the rub the material between his fingers. 

Using that touch as an anchor, Will dragged himself the short distance across the bed, shuffling carefully, watching Hannibal’s face for any sign of change. When he laid his head against that beating chest, feeling the rising and falling against his face, a counterpoint to the rocking of the boat, he felt rather than heard the gasp that left Hannibal’s mouth. 

Will shuddered as the arm came around his shoulders, settling hesitantly on top of his elbow. Bravely, he extended his own injured arm over Hannibal’s body, settling in the gap between Hannibal and the edge of the bed, bracketing him in. 

Will turned his face into Hannibal’s chest, rubbing the skin against the impossibly soft wool. He breathed in deeply. It smelled like fabric softener. Hannibal sighed, and Will returned it with his own, settling in to the other man, letting himself go. 

Gently, the motion of the boat rocked both men into an untroubled sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> So I finished watching Hannibal.
> 
> I was feeling bereft that it ended, and soft about two cannibals, so here this is.
> 
> This is intended as the first chapter of a longer fic. I will add to it as I write.
> 
> Thank you if you made it this far.


End file.
